Drink Up Me Hearties
by TDWidow
Summary: Why did Jack Sparrow first become a pirate? What happened to poor Ragetti’s real eye? And Bootstrap Bill’s final thoughts. CHAP 10: A fallen pirate finally finds peace. (Also added is a timeline) COMPLETE
1. A Simple Task

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Welcome to my first Pirates of the Caribbean fic! I loved this movie so much and just had to write about it. There will be 10 vignettes, following 10 different characters. This one is actually about two characters, since Murtogg and Mullroy are pretty much the same character anyway, hehe. So there's no confusion, Mullroy was the bigger one and Murtogg was the one who argued for the existence of the Black Pearl.

**DISCLAIMER** Disney owns these characters, not me.

Misters Murtogg and Mullroy waited nervously outside Captain Norrington's office. Unfortunately, they'd rather made a mess of things as the fort assembled that morning by tripping over a cart and thus releasing two very frightened donkeys.

"In for it, we are," Mr. Murtogg muttered.

"I bet we're off to prison duty," Mr. Mullroy commented. His depressed look indicated that prison duty was far from enviable.

They waited a few more tense moments before the door opened. Norrington's second-in-command, Gillette, stepped into the narrow stone hallway. "Murtogg and Mullroy."

The two men stood up. "Yes, sir?"

"The Captain will see you now." Gillette looked disdainfully at the two, then led them before Norrington.

The Captain stood behind his desk, facing the window that overlooked Port Royal. His formal uniform was immaculate, from the white gloves clasped behind his back to the crisp powdered wig that curled gracefully around his head. The stoic man turned to face the two men fidgeting before him.

"Misters Murtogg and Mullroy," Captain Norrington said with a sigh.

"Yes sir."

"Good day sir."

Norrington paused for a moment before continuing. "As you both know, my promotion ceremony begins in precisely one hour. Now. Most of Port Royal shall be in attendance, save the more…unsavory types." He made a face quite unbecoming to a Captain of the British Navy.

Murtogg and Mullroy looked at each other in confusion. One shrugged to the other. "Yes, Cap'n Norrington," Mullroy eventually said.

"I have a simple, yet vitally important task that I shall appoint to the two of you."

The two men stood up straighter. A task of vital importance appointed to them? The scratches on the face of the British navy? "Aye aye, sir!" said Murtogg zealously.

"Begging your pardon sir," Mullroy ventured. "But what is this task?"

Norrington smiled slightly and turned back to the window. "Have you gentlemen heard of the HMS Interceptor?"

"Heard of it?" Mullroy's jaw dropped. "She's the fastest ship in the Caribbean, she is!"

"Almost the fastest, actually," Murtogg muttered.

"Shut up!" Mullroy said, hitting his companion. Norrington faced them once more and glared at the two. "The Interceptor is _the_ fastest ship in the Caribbean. I require that she be under guard at all times, which includes during my promotion ceremony." He smiled slightly sardonically. "Are you two up to the task?"

Murtogg and Mullroy could hardly stand their good fortune. Guard the Interceptor? "Yes sir!"

Norrington nodded, apparently satisfied. "Very good. No civilian is to go near the vessel. At all. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Very clear sir!"

"Good." Norrington tilted his head high. "We are through here. Good day, gentlemen."

"Good day sir!"

The two men walked through the fort filled with pride. Once they were out in the open, they let excitement take over. "Guarding the Interceptor!" Murtogg couldn't believe it. "Blimey!"

"Whole let better than prison duty, it is!" Mullroy said happily.

Murtogg stopped his friend. "We can't screw this up."

"We won't." Mullroy shook his head firmly. "The Cap'n's trusting us. We won't let anyone near that ship."

Murtogg giggled. "Everyone'll be at the promotion anyway. So all we have to worry about is pirates."

Mullroy rolled his eyes. "There haven't been pirates in Port Royal for years. There aren't anymore pirates left in the Caribbean!"

"Yes there are! There's the – "

"Don't start!" Mullroy glared at Murtogg. "The Black Pearl isn't real!"

Murtogg sulked. "Come on then, let's go." The two soldiers of Her Majesty headed down for the docks.


	2. Hello Gorgeous

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** A few notes about this chapter. I have decided that I think Will and Elizabeth were 11 when Will was rescued and would therefore be 19 in _Pirates of the Caribbean_. This vignette takes place 3 years prior to that. It's also slightly AU I guess, since if they really were close friends like I've written, Will wouldn't have been quite so nervous in the opening scenes of PotC. *shrugs* Oh well.

**DISCLAIMER** They all belong to Disney…*sniff* Too bad…

**Dot** Hehe, yes, he was in for a surprise!

**Sanely Challenged **Ragetti's chapter will be chapter 8. Sorry you have to wait so long, but I hope you're enjoying these along the way!

**Ragetti's gurl & Lisha the omnipotent** Like I said above, Ragetti will be Chapter 8. I actually just finished writing his chapter today. I hope you'll keep reading while you wait!

**StrangeDreams** Don't worry, you'll see all of those except Cotton. I don't know why I didn't decide to write one for him, too. Gibbs is Chapter 3, Anamaria 5, and Jack 9.

**Happychaos** Thank you so much! That about Murtogg and Mullroy is probably the highest compliment you could have given me! I'm always so worried about keeping everyone in character. And there will be Jack of course, have no fear!

**Tinania Lindaleriel **I'm glad you like it! Vignettes are fun.

**Astralmoth** Thanks so much!

**Pery-pirate-fancier** "Hope am not turning into pervy hobbit-fancier like Uncle Windermir. Not after what happened to _him_." Hehe…love your author name! Love the secret diaries too. *grin* I'm glad you're enjoying it!

"Elizabeth?"

16-year-old Elizabeth Swann, daughter of the Governor of Port Royal, looked up from her lessons to see her father in the doorway. "Hello Father," she greeted him with a smile.

Weatherby Swann smiled back at his only child. She looked so much like her mother. "I must go into the village to run an errand," he said. "I was hoping you would accompany me."

Elizabeth grinned widely and jumped up from the table in a most-unladylike manner. She rushed off to find her wrap. The Governor sighed. His only daughter was unfortunately much more interested in tales of the sea than in her manners. He had no cause for worry, of course, as Elizabeth always presented herself perfectly when around company. It was the rest of the time that worried him.

His daughter returned and the two boarded an elegant carriage drawn by fine horses. The Governor's house sat high on a hill above Port Royal and the carriage bounced merrily down toward the town. Elizabeth happily watched out the carriage window while her father watched her fondly.

"What errand must you run, Father?" she asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing important." He smiled to himself. "Mr. Brown has finished mounting my two old swords and I wish to pick them up."

Elizabeth's eyes lit up. "We're going to the blacksmith?"

Governor Swann chuckled. "Yes daughter."

"I'll get to see Will! I've not seen him in ages!" Elizabeth couldn't wait to see her old friend. The two had been inseparable since the day the ship docked in Port Royal after Will had been rescued. For year they had played together, pretending in secret to be pirates.

Then, the year they each turned 14, all their play had to stop. Will was apprenticed to the town's blacksmith and Elizabeth had to become the Lady of her house. For the past two years, the two friends hadn't seen much of each other.

The prancing horses stopped in front of a small workshop. The Governor helped his daughter from the carriage, then knocked on the heavy wooden door. A hefty, stocky man opened it. "Governor! Tis an honor to have ye visit me 'umble shop!"

Governor Swann laughed. "Thank ye indeed, Mr. Brown! I've come for my swords."

"Aye sir!" Mr. Brown hustled into his shop, beckoning for Elizabeth and her father to follow.

The blacksmith's shop was unlike any shop Elizabeth had been in before. Everything was grimy and covered in soot. Hay was strewn about and there was a donkey in the middle of the room. The poor beast was harnessed to a large machine attached to the ceiling. Elizabeth couldn't even begin to guess what it would be used for.

"Boy!" Mr. Brown called. "Oi! Turner! Where be ye?"

"Right here, sir!" 16-year-old Will Turner hurried out from a back room.

"The Governor is 'ere for 'is swords! Fetch them."

"Yes sir! Good day, Governor. Good day Eliz-uh, Miss Swann," he finished nervously.

"Hello Will!" Elizabeth said. Whoa. She was looking into the eyes of a Will she definitely didn't remember. He gazed back at her with big, dark eyes. Had his eyes always been like that?

"Boy!" Mr. Brown barked. "The swords, boy!"

"Oh!" Will stumbled a little, then turned and hurried to find the mounted swords.

"How is the boy doing?" the Governor asked.

"Eh. 'E's alright," Mr. Brown grunted noncommittally. He and Governor Swann continued to discuss Will's progress as an apprentice, but Elizabeth wasn't listening.

His eyes had been so dark…so gorgeous and dark. Were they always like that? She didn't remember them like that. She remembered everything about that day Will had been pulled from the sea and his eyes couldn't have been so beautifully dark without her realizing it.

Will soon returned, carrying two swords beautifully mounted in black steel. He strained under the weight just a little, but enough so that his thin cotton shirt couldn't hide his muscular arms. 'I wonder if the rest of him is like that,' Elizabeth found herself thinking.

She blushed crimson at the indecency of her thoughts and looked away. Her father took the swords and paid Mr. Brown handsomely. "Thank ye very much! Good day to you."

"And to ye, Governor."

Elizabeth tilted her head just slightly. "Good-bye Mr. Brown. Good…" her voice trailed off as butterflies erupted in her stomach. Those eyes…

As she struggled for composure, Will smiled nervously. "Good day, Miss Swann." She just smiled shakily back at him, then fled for her father's carriage.

She sat lost in thought the whole way home. Who was that? It certainly couldn't be Will Turner. Will Turner was the boy she used to play pirates with. Mr. Brown's apprentice certainly couldn't be that same 11-year-old boy they'd rescued from the ocean. What had happened to that boy, her friend?

When the returned to the house, Swann Manor as she and Will once joked, Elizabeth had to resume her lessons. However, her mind was far from the etiquette of serving dinner guests. Whoever this new Will Turner was, she looked forward to getting to know him all over again.


	3. Fortunate Predicaments

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** I'm SO sorry that it's taken me so long to update again! Moving back into my dorm was a long process, lol. Anyway, all I can really say is that this takes place three years after Jack loses the Pearl, so one year after Will is found by Elizabeth and taken to Port Royal.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own anyone…*sniff* Oh how I wish I did…*wink*

**Pervy-pirate-fancier** Haha, yes. Elizabeth is just like every other 16 year old girl…plus it's Orlando Bloom!

**Sanely Challenged** *cowers* I'm sorry! I'll try to update faster, I promise!

The rocking of waves in the harbor did not mix well with a hangover. Joshamee Gibbs was quickly learning this the hard way. He'd drunk away all his money and couldn't even afford a night in a Tortuga inn. So he'd retired to his cabin aboard his ship.

The morning found him in a quite sorry state. His hangover brought on a mild case of seasickness and Gibbs was utterly miserable. Figuring that more sleep might make things more tolerable, he took one look at the sunlight on deck and turned around for the hold.

In truth, more sleep did help. By the time he woke up again, his body'd become reaccustomed to the waves and his hangover had faded into a pounding headache. Sighing, he heaved himself up the ladder and onto the deck to read the ship for voyage back to Port Royal.

Suddenly he remembered the reason he'd ended up drunk in Tortuga in the first place. Gibbs pounded the wooden wall angrily. That daft Norrington, whatever his rank was by now, had discharged him! Said he wasn't "fit" to command a merchant ship in Port Royal. "Blasted man, probably ne'er had a drink before in his life," Gibbs grumbled as he reached the deck and took a swig from his flask.

He couldn't go back to Port Royal. And, casting a disdainful eye at the den of sin onshore, he certainly couldn't stay in Tortuga. Where was he to go?

"'Ello mate!" chirped a voice behind him as the cold steel sword point dug into his back. Gibbs dropped his flask and turned to face his attacker. A very dramatic-looking pirate grinned at him. He bent down. "This be a nice flask. Shouldn't lose it, aye mate?"

"Who the devil do ye think ye are?" Gibbs growled.

"Oh!" The pirate looked mildly surprised and dropped his sword. "Captain Jack Sparrow!" He bowed his head a bit. "And I'm here to commandeer this vessel!" He flashed a gold-capped smile at a seething Gibbs.

Gibbs grabbed his pistol from his hip. "Over me dead an' rotten body!"

"Now, now, there's no need fer that." Sparrow leisurely made his way to the helm and took hold of the wheel. His nonchalant and arrogant nature was absolutely maddening.

"I'll ne'er let a pirate take me ship!" Gibbs spat.

Sparrow dropped his hands from the wheel and glared at Gibbs. "It's not like ye have much of a choice, mate. I steal ships. I'm a pirate, it's what I do." He sauntered back down. "Now, as I see it, ye have two options. One, ye fight me hung over as ye are and I'll take yer ship. Or two, you can surrender yer ship now and sail as me first mate, savvy?"

"This is my ship," Gibbs said stubbornly.

"Which is why I'm stealing it!" Sparrow explained, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Gibbs stood pondering for a few minutes. He couldn't go back to Port Royal. He didn't want to stay in Tortuga. But turn pirate? That seemed just a bit drastic. And he'd probably end up right back in Tortuga anyway. It was a predicament.

Jack Sparrow watched Gibbs expectantly. It was a nice ship, much bigger than his last acquisition. 'Nothing compared to the Pearl, though,' he thought sadly. It had been three years since he'd lost the Black Pearl to that rat Barbossa and no ship he'd commandeered had yet matched.

And the ship's owner, past his gruffness, was a good man. He'd be a good man to sail with, Jack concluded. He just had to agree to Jack's terms first.

Finally, Gibbs decided that all in all, turning pirate couldn't worsen his fortunes any. "Aye Sparrow. I'll sail with ye."

"Captain!" the pirate said sternly. "Captain Sparrow!" After a moment, he grinned. "Or ye can call me Jack. Makes no never mind to me."

"Fine, Jack." Gibbs stubbornly refused to himself to ever call the pirate "Captain." "Where we be off to?"

Jack just grinned and began to ready the ship for sea. Gibbs noted begrudgingly that the pirate was obviously knowledgeable about ships and treated them with respect. At least his vessel would be commandeered gently. Taking another swig from his flask, he joined his new captain at the helm.


	4. Every New Beginning

**DISCLAIMER 1** These are Barbossa's thoughts. There are in NO WAY my thoughts or opinions on our beloved Captain Jack Sparrow, I promise!!

**DISCLAIMER 2** I don't own them…Disney does.

**Rasberry Rum** I'm glad you are enjoying these! Jack's chapter will be chapter 9 I think…I'll try to post as quickly as possible!

Mutiny. It was a vile word for a vile act. Any man who committed mutiny upon the water lost all respect in the eyes of other seafarers. Even pirates commanded some respect.

An entire crew would often commit mutiny, but blame fell upon he who spearheaded the act. A Captain against a Commodore. A First Mate against a Captain. Once a man made that first strike against his superior, there was no turning back.

The Black Pearl sailed swiftly in the blue waters of the Caribbean. Shrinking against the horizon just beyond the rails of the stern was a small island, barely more than sand and a few palm trees. If one squinted his eyes against the sun, he would see the dark shadow of a man upon the sand watching them sail away.

But the crew of the Black Pearl had no further interest in this man. They were eagerly checking sails and watching the sea pass by. Only one man stood with his eyes astern, gazing back as the island faded away.

He knew what mutiny was. He knew what the word "mutineer" meant. He knew what harsh repercussions it often carried. He knew what remorse he should have felt, but didn't.

He was in no way sorry for abandoning his Captain on little more than a sandbar and claiming his ship. All logic told him that he should be. It was a grievous act for the First Mate to lead the entire crew in a midnight uprising.

The man on the beach finally turned his back on the retreating Pearl. But the man on the ship did not turn in suit. The island got smaller and smaller as the wide black sails picked up warm Caribbean winds.

A tall, dark-skinned man cautiously approached the watchful one. "Cap'n?" he asked.

"What do ye want?" the Captain asked his new First Mate.

"The sails be out full," he replied.

"Good."

The First Mate sensed that his Captain was in no mood for conversation beyond that. He knew that the Captain had a strong sense of honor and he'd never let it be compromised for anything.

Somehow, mutiny had escaped his sense of honor.

In all seriousness, he really didn't consider himself a mutineer. Their former Captain was a sorry excuse for a pirate, walking and talking big to hide his soft heart. The crew would never have learned to be ruthless and cunning under him.

A spray of filthy water splattered the Captain. Two rather inept pirates holding mops and buckets looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry bout that, Cap'n Barbossa," mumbled the shorter of the two.

"Barbossa snarled at the two. "Best be more careful Mr. Pintel or ye'll end up bein' towed from the bilges."

"Aye aye sir!" They shuffled nervously away. Barbossa watched them in annoyance, but also pride in that he'd frightened them so.

Again, his thoughts wandered back disdainfully to their former Captain. He'd never have thought to really frighten his crew. The barked commands, the wild look in his eyes, all of it was an act. Barbossa scoffed. Jack Sparrow really had been a sorry excuse for a pirate.

Not only had Sparrow been soft, but he was also absurdly young to command a ship. At 26, he was barely more than a cocky child. Barbossa, almost twice that age, should rightfully have been Captain from the beginning.

Mr. Pintel fearfully approached Barbossa. "C-Captain Barbossa?" he stammered.

Barbossa liked the sound of that more every time he heard it. "Yes Mr. Pintel?"

"Uh…we have to swab the decks aster sir," he said nervously. "If ye could move just a little, sir…"

Thoroughly enjoying how uncomfortable he made his crew, Barbossa smiled. "Of course." Hearing himself being called, "Captain Barbossa" put him in an almost amicable mood.

He cast one final glance at the sandy little island, barely more than a pale shimmer on the Caribbean waves. That island was the end of Sparrow's arrogant delusions of grandeur. The ocean lying before them was a new beginning.

In that moment, Barbossa understood what he had done was not an act of mutiny, but an act of mercy: mercy for his fine and black-hearted pirates. He'd saved them from being doomed to failure.

"Gents!" he called. Every weatherworn, scarred face turned to him. "Off to Isla de Muerta!" he cried triumphantly. Cheers rose up around him. Turning his eyes to the great horizon off the Black Pearl's bow, he whispered softly, "And the treasure of a lifetime."


	5. The Morning After

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Here is the tale of our dear Anamaria. This takes place about 4 months prior to PotC, but Anamaria's ship is NOT the one Jack sails to Port Royal in the movie.

Oh, and there will be a timeline that I post after all the chapters are up. These aren't posted in chronological order so I know it can get a little confusing.

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own 'em. I'd be rich if I did…

**JaneBooth** Yeah, I'm trying to fill in the gaps about our dear characters' lives pre-movie. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

Sunlight streamed in through dirty windows. The brightness reflected onto Anamaria's closed eyes, rousing the dark-skinned woman from sleep. She stretched and smiled sleepily, keeping her eyes shut in hopes of finding a few more minutes of slumber.

The small room was barely furnished and even less clean. But then, one was foolish to expect anything more in Tortuga. Anamaria smiled again. Tortuga had certainly been kind to her in the past day.

_The tavern was smoky and filled with raucous quarrels and laughter. Whores were plentiful and no one bothered the pretty, dark-skinned woman who sat along with a mug of ale. She felt greatly proud of herself. Floating just offshore was her boat. It was all hers! It wasn't much of a thing, but it was still hers._

_"'Ello love!"_

_Anamaria looked irritatedly into the grinning face of a pirate who'd joined her. "What do ye want?"_

_"Nothin' but the pleasure of yer company!" His grin was annoying, but charming._

_"Well," she said begrudgingly, "as long as that's all ye be wantin'. What be yer name?"_

_The pirate swept off his hat. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at yer service!"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "And where be yer ship, Captain?"_

_"I have a ship in many a port, strumpet." He winked._

_Anamaria rolled her eyes and stood up. "Well my ship needs to be watched, so I must be off."_

_Captain Jack Sparrow stood up and swaggered over to her. Draping his arm over shoulder, he breathed, "Why don't ye forget the ship love, savvy?" in her ear._

_Before she knew what had happened, Anamaria had led Jack Sparrow to her room. She was weak to his charms._

The bed was warm from the two bodies that had shared it trough the night. Anamaria opened her eyes and rolled over. She was surprised, although she didn't know why, to see that the bed beside her was empty. Jack was gone.

Wrapping a sheet around herself, she got up and collected her scattered clothes from the floor. She hunted for a missing shoe under the bed and noticed a leaf of paper. It was upside-down as if it had slipped unnoticed from the pillow.

It was just a short note, only one line.

"Thanks for the lift, love."

Anamaria rolled her eyes at the pirate's vulgar innuendo and pocketed the note. She tossed a few coins to the innkeeper on her way out and was off to the docks.

The morning was sunny and hot. Tropical birds sang brightly, lifting the female pirate's spirits even more. She was in a right good mood. Even thought he had not stuck around, Anamaria mused, Jack did give her one Hell of a good night.

Idly humming as she walked, she began to see sails over the tops of the palm trees. She was nearing the harbor. A cool ocean breeze whipped tendrils of her hair loose as she turned a corner and faced the open sea.

Three or four boats were tied up, rocking gently on rolling waves. They were majestic vessels, no doubt having once belonged in some fashion to the British Navy.

Anamaria's boat was not that grand. And it was gone. It was _gone_?

She looked wildly around for the owner of the dock. He was quickly located as all she had to do was follow the jingle of a moneybag. "Where's my boat!" she demanded angrily when she caught up to him.

"Excuse me?"

"Where's my boat?" she cried shrilly. "The little two mast, two sail that came in yesterday!"

"Oh yes…" The man looked at her oddly. "'Er Captain sailed 'er outta 'ere this mornin'."

Anamaria couldn't believe her ears. "Her Captain? I'm her Captain!"

"Oh." He scratched his head. "Not that swaggerin' feller? Sorry bout that miss…" He did not sound all that sorry.

Anamaria was seething. What so-called "swaggerin' feller" stole her boat? What _idiot_…

Her hat fell from her hand as realization struck her hard. She clenched the note in her pocket. "Thanks for the lift, love." That damn pirate stole her boat! He…stole…her…BOAT!

Her blood boiled. Oh she'd get him back all right. She'd get him back is she had to SWIM across the Caribbean to do it!

Crumpling the paper in her palm, she flung it over the water. It caught the breeze and floated down harmlessly on the waves. A picture of rage, Anamaria swept off from the docks with a single new purpose.

Jack Sparrow would pay.


	6. A Matter of Conscience

**AUTHOR'S NOTE **I like Norrington as a character and I don't want to vilify him, hence why he turns out to be noble.

**DISCLAIMER** As much as I wish I did, I don't own anyone *pout*

**Kingleby** There's only one vignette per character, but that's a good point about those two slaps not being quite enough payback for Ana. Maybe she forgives him when he gives her the Interceptor?

Jack Sparrow stood silently on the scaffold. Commodore Norrington had been waiting far too long for this day. Never before had he worked so hard to have a pirate hanged.

An official clerk unrolled a list of charges. "Jack Sparrow, be it know that…"

But the Commodore didn't hear the charges read. He was looking into the downcast, morose face of the pirate. Norrington saw him mutter something about being a Captain and he felt bad. Couldn't they acknowledge him as a captain at least once?

Norrington blinked, thoroughly stunned and confused. It wasn't that he was a man void of compassion, but this was a pirate! A pirate who, as the charges attested, was completely black hearted.

_But a pirate who saved your fiancé's life_, whispered a little voice from deep inside his mind. _Twice_.

'He's still a pirate,' the Commodore thought stalwartly.

_And who led you to defeat the Black Pearl_, insisted that annoying little voice.

"This is wrong," Elizabeth said softly. Norrington looked sharply at her.

"Commodore Norrington is bound by the law," her father answered. "As are we all." Elizabeth sadly ignored him.

_She's right you know_, Norrington's nagging conscience reminded him.

'Right or wrong, he's a _pirate_!' he shot back, desperately clinging to what he knew. 'Pirates need to be hanged!'

The clerk continued to read the charges. "Impersonating an officer of the Spanish Royal Navy, impersonating a cleric of the Church of England…"

Sparrow smiled to himself, obviously enjoying the memory. Norrington felt nothing but contempt for the pirate. His conscience however had other ideas.

_At least he had fun._

'Shut up!'

Wrapping up a very long list of charges, the hangman turned to Sparrow. "And for these crimes, you have been sentenced to be on this day hung by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul."

Norrington's breath caught. The urge to halt the hanging was strong, but his imposed sense of duty was still stronger. This was a pirate and pirates had to be executed. Narrowing his eyes, the Commodore watched the clerk roll the parchment back up.

Just then, the blacksmith boy, Turner, appeared before the platform on which Norrington stood. He was well dressed and had a peculiar look in his eye. "Governor Swann. Commodore," he addressed them. They nodded solemnly to him and he turned to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth. I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you."

Elizabeth looked shocked as Turner walked away. Norrington's blood boiled at the look on his fiancé's face. He turned back to the execution, unable to look at her. The executioner placed the noose around Sparrow's neck.

The feather on Turner's hat bobbed through the crowd. 'Dear God!' Norrington thought. 'He's going to Sparrow's aid!'

_Good._

'The boy is turning pirate as well!'

_You're just jealous that Elizabeth loves him._

Norrington squeezed his eyes shut. The little voice was right. He couldn't argue against that. It pained him to think of his beautiful fiancé with another man.

Suddenly, Elizabeth whispered, "Can't breathe!" in a strained voice before falling to the ground. The Governor and Norrington rushed to her side, but with the crack of the gallows trapdoor falling open, she gasped and sat up.

Norrington was aghast to watch Turner bound up the scaffold and cut the pirate free. The two proceeded to take on most of Norrington's men.

'Sparrow escaped the gallows!' he thought angrily.

_But you didn't do anything wrong_.

Norrington stopped. 'What?'

_You had the man hanged. You obeyed your duty to the law and the man who saved Elizabeth now doesn't have to die for it._

He sighed, defeated. 'That's far too rational.'

Sparrow was free, Turner had joined him, and Elizabeth loved another man. But Norrington's conscience did not need to bother him again.


	7. Aye But We're Loved

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own Will…I do own Wally, but he'll probably never show up in anything I ever write. *shrugs*

**Kingleby** I really do like Norrington. I think he's a noble character and shows his true personality at the end. And, as much as I adore Will, I feel a little bit bad for him! He looks so hopefully when Elizabeth says "As a wedding gift."

It always rained in London. A young boy, recently having turned 11, pulled his coat more tightly around him. The fresh grave before him looked sad in the rain. Water dripped slowly from the chiseled word "Turner." It looked as though the stone itself was crying.

Will Turner turned from his mother's grave. It had rained the day before also…the day they'd buried her. The gray skies mirrored the boy's sorrow as he left the graveyard.

His mother had been all he had left in the world. She'd lovingly raised him alone after his father had left when he was six years old. For the past five years, the older William Turner had been sailing a merchant vessel in a sea of islands far away.

Will so often wished he could see his father again. He used to send Will and his mother money once or twice a year to help them along. But for the past two years, the gifts had stopped. His last had been sent specifically to Will: an ornately carved gold medallion.

He pulled the medallion out from under his shirt. It hung on a chain around his neck for safekeeping. A glaring skull stared at him from the gold. As scary as the gilded image was, the medallion was a gift from his father. Will treasured it above anything else he owned.

Returning to his empty house for only a moment, Will took his sack and left. It was not a long walk to the dock section of the city, but Will had never been in that part of London before. It was rough-and-tumble and most boys avoided it if they didn't live there.

A magnificent merchant ship was docked far at the end of the pier. Will cautiously approached the dock master. "G'day sir."

The man peered over his spectacles at the boy. "What be yer name, son?"

"Will Turner," he answered nervously. "I requested passage yesterday."

The docksman scanned the few pages he had in front of him. "Ah yes, Turner. Yer quarters'll be down in the hold." He paused to glare at the boy. "I trust ye won't make trouble aboard th' ship!"

"No sir."

The man nodded and Will scurried aboard. He wasn't used to the gruff nature of seamen. It unnerved him. He climbed down into the hold as quickly as he could, wanting to escape the rain and be alone.

Will was even more discouraged to see his "quarters." It was no more than a board with a blanket thrown across it. The bed was shoved in a corner in a small room with five others crammed in around it. It would be a very long voyage.

Curling up in the corner of his cot, Will shut out the noisy docks outside. He still grieved over the death of his mother. The decision to sail away from London had been spur-of-the-moment, driven by loneliness and sorrow.

Reality began to sink in as the boy suddenly felt the ship move. He climbed from the cot and peered out on deck. The docks of London got smaller and smaller as the ship made way for the open sea.

Will suddenly realized what he was doing. The gentle rocking of the Channel was nothing compared to what they would face on the open ocean and already the boy felt sick. It would be a very long trip indeed.

As he tried to lie very still on his board, his mind wandered far away. What would the Caribbean be like? Will knew nothing about it. He didn't even know where to start looking for his father. 'Merchant vessels must be registered or something,' he thought. 'All I have to do is find him in the records.'

This was a bad idea and Will knew it. What if he couldn't find his father? The Caribbean was big. Who knows how many islands there were? His father could be anywhere.

"'Ello son!"

Will turned his head slowly to see a man in his thirties relaxing on the cot beside him. "Hello," he returned weakly.

The man laughed. "Aw, don' worry. Yer sickness'll pass. What's a boy like ye doin' goin' ter the Caribbean?"

"I'm looking for my father." Will sighed. "My mother died recently, so I have no reason to stay in England now."

"Sorry to 'ear that." The man held out his hand. "Name's Wally! This be me third voyage to the Caribbean."

"Wow. Is it a long voyage?"

Wally laughed. "As long as can be expected. Is this yer first trip to the Caribbean, Mr.…?"

"Oh!" Will blushed at his bad manners. "My name is Will Turner."

The grin left Wally's face. "Yer looking fer yer father, ye said?"

"Yes." Will nodded. "Bill Turner. Do you know him?"

"No," Wally said shortly. He didn't talk anymore.

Will as puzzled. Wally had seemed the kind of guy who would talk a man's ear off, given the chance. But after Will mentioned his father, he couldn't get the sailor to say another word. No one else was around and soon even Wally had gone above decks.

Left alone in the hold, Will bunched up his jacket as a pillow and tried to rest. He idly wound his finger around the chain of his medallion as the rocking of the sea carried him to the Caribbean in his dreams.


	8. The Pros and Cons of an Aztec Curse

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Here is the long awaited Ragetti chapter! It's a little gory, but hey. They're pirates *wink*

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own them…Disney does. Damn Disney.

**Kingleby** It was probably the medallion…after all, it did bring the Black Pearl to Port Royal in the movie. I'm a sap for romance too *wink*

A pirate's life did have its rewards. Countless riches more than made up for long voyages and hard labor on the seas. And no riches were more legendary than the lost gold of Cortez on the dreaded Isla de Muerta.

The excitement was obvious as small rowboats full of pirates neared a darkened cave. Ragetti, a tall, thin pirate with an eagerly goofy grin, rowed hastily alongside his good friend Pintel. The two often shared duties onboard their ship, the Black Pearl, and had formed a remarkable strong friendship for pirates.

"What are ye goin' ta spend yer share on?" Ragetti asked.

"An awful pretty wench in Tortuga!" Pintel replied excitedly. He grinned, revealing a mixture of gold and black teeth.

Ragetti giggled. "Me, I'm gunna bribe some rum-runners. Nothin' like good rum!"

"Will you two shut yer mouths?" grumbled a third pirate in their boat.

Pintel sneered. "An' what are you goin' ta do with yer share o' the treasure, Bootstrap? Send it off ta that pretty little London wench?"

Bootstrap growled and reached for his dagger. "Never speak of her like that again." The knife at Pintel's throat illustrated Bootstrap's point. The three were silent as they followed their Captain through the black caves.

Little thought was given to their former captain, now wasting away on some tiny little island beach. All that filled their heads was treasure. Cortez's chest of 882 cursed gold pieces was the only thing they sought.

Ragetti was a simple man who didn't know much past pirating and treasure. He didn't know anything about Aztec Gods or mystical curses. None of the pirates believed in it anyway. It was just a bunch of lies made up to keep thieves and pirates away. Only the bravest or most foolish dared to enter the rocks of Isla de Muerta and judging from the skeletons that littered the entry waters, not many had succeeded.

Suddenly, the lead boat slowed to a gravely stop. "Land!" Captain Barbossa shouted triumphantly. A cacophony of water splashes rang through the rocky cavern. The pirates didn't bother to beach their rowboats, instead jumping over the side and clamoring to shore. The cavern was empty, lit dimly by a crack in the ceiling.

There, bathed in a beam of late afternoon sunlight, was an ornately carved stone chest. Everyone held their breath in awe. "Cortez's Aztec treasure!" whispered the Captain.

"Gold!" Ragetti muttered excitedly.

The moment was broken. Led by Barbossa, a mad stampede rushed up the rocky hill. It took four men to remove the heavy lid and all eyes glittered at the sight before them. Hundreds of identical gold coins sparkled from within their stone resting place.

Ragetti found himself being crushed as near 40 pirates fought to be first at the chest. Blindly, he pushed through the other men. Once he reached the chest, he eagerly grabbed as many coins as he could hold. The gold was cool to his touch.

Pintel fought his way up to the chest beside Ragetti. Unfortunately, he had shoved in front of Bo'sun. Bo'sun was a large, dark-skinned man covered in strange tattoos. He was vicious and arrogant. His dagger was at Pintel's throat. "This be my spot!" he roared savagely.

Reacting to the dagger, every pirate soon had his own blade drawn. It was a confusing scuffle, a flurry of blades clashing with no specific targets. Ragetti gladly joined in, for he loved a fight as any good pirate should, but suddenly howled in pain.

The pirates scattered at his cry and stared at their shipmate clutching his face with bloodstained hands. Ragetti suddenly stopped and looked with one eye at the other he held bloody in his hand. Even the most hardened pirates couldn't look into his empty glaring eye-socket.

"Hey!" Ragetti said, shocked. "It don't hurt!"

Captain Barbossa glared at the gold pieces Ragetti had dropped when the fight broke out. "The curse," he muttered.

Ragetti continued to stare shocked at his own eye. "We are cursed!" His look turned from shocked to scared, then to excited. "My eye don't hurt! We be cursed but we can't be hurt neither!"

With a second thought, many of the pirates began slicing their arms and marveling at the painlessness. Cheers rang through the cave.

Although he didn't really know what to do about his eye, Ragetti couldn't believe their good luck. Who knew the horrible curse of Isla de Muerta really made them invincible? Eagerly, he returned to the side of the chest and scooped up as many medallions as he could carry. The other pirates abandoned their self-mutilation at the thought of more gold.

Within minutes, the chest stood empty. Captain Barbossa stood atop the hill. "Gents! Isla de Muerta is ours!" A cheer rose from the men. "Here be where we'll keep our swag and anchor the Black Pearl. The treasure of Cortez be ours! To the boats!"

Ragetti scurried back toward the rowboats excitedly. He couldn't wait to taste that rum. As he quickly rinsed the blood off of his hands in the salt water, his forgotten eye floated softly to the bottom.


	9. The Turning of John Wellington

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** Sorry I've been gone for so long! Here is the chapter for JACK!

**DISCLAIMER** To my utter sadness, I do not own our dear Captain Jack. However, I do own this interpretation of how he got his beginnings.

**If anyone wants to read another take on how Captain Jack began, read "Aftermath" by L'Morgan. It's a great story!**

**So yeah…everyone was so looking forward to Ragetti's chapter and then no one reviewed! Come on people…**

The lights of Tortuga glittered obscenely onshore. Aboard a grand ship, crewmen eyed the island lustfully, eager to spend their money on all manner of sinful pleasures. Only one on the pirate vessel was uninterested.

A lad of 15 sat glowering on deck, his wrists tied to the rail. It was his own fault that he'd gotten caught and even more his own fault that he'd chosen to stow away on a pirate ship. But at 15, John Wellington never backed down from a fight.

The bruises on his ribs had taught him to be more careful about fighting with pirates, especially on their ship. They seemed awfully territorial about it.

The Captain called out to his crew. "We be approaching shore! Take in sail!" At his word, the crew immediately climbed the rigging, retracting the sails so that none of the white canvas was visible. The ship slowed almost to a halt. "Run out the oars!" the Captain called again.

"Why do you do that?" John couldn't help himself. He hated his captors with a passion, but was very curious about ships. It was the reason he'd run away from home and stowed away in the first place. That combined with the fact that he was forced to live with his horrible old spinster aunt and all of her cats.

The Captain looked down disdainfully at his captive. The boy put on hi best innocent face. "We don't want to be advertisin' our arrival to all those on shore. White sails be easy ta see in the' moonlight, savvy?"

"That's stupid, _savvy_?" John retorted mockingly. He bit his tongue for a minute as the Captain backhanded him. He glared at the pirate. "Ye should just make th' sails black. Then no one'll see 'em."

The Captain didn't answer. Instead he just snarled at the boy and retook his position at the helm.

John glared at him for a minute, then examined his bonds. The pirates who had tied him up hadn't looked all that intelligent and sure enough, the knot was loose and incorrectly tied. And John just happened to be a resourceful lad.

Far too preoccupied with their approach into shore, none of the pirates noticed when John used his teeth to free himself. He stood up cockily and shouted, "Avast!"

His eyes widened when 40 pistols were cocked and pointed at his head. Without a second thought, he turned around and dove gracefully into the water. No gunshots followed him as he swam as fast as he could to shore.

Once he'd climbed from the sea, he realized the predicament he was in. No money. No food. No help. He reached what appeared to be the center of the port and realized that the island didn't seem to have anything except pirates, whores, and an abundance of a very strong liquor. All of it intrigued him.

John grinned to himself. Might as well experiment. Dripping wet, he swaggered up to the nearest woman he saw. "Good evening me beauty!"

The woman, obviously a whore, looked to one of her companions. The two giggled. "What's yer name, sir?" the first asked sarcastically.

"John Wellington!"

She giggled again. "And how old be ye?"

"He ain't more'n a litt'l sparrow of a thing!" her friend taunted.

John glared defiantly at them. "15."

The whores couldn't contain their laughter. They turned to leave. "When ye're old enough ta get a job that'll pay fer me, then we'll talk!" one called back.

He flushed deep red. He'd never been so humiliated. Laughed at by a whore! Then and there, John Wellington vowed to be the most respected man in all of Tortuga.

Of course, that meant becoming a pirate.

For days, the boy buried himself in dark tavern corners. He watched pirates of all sorts, learning and mimicking their mannerisms and speech. Soon he found himself imitating pirates without realizing it.

But there was more to pirating than walking and talking. He would need a crew and a ship. Well, maybe he'd start by joining a crew on someone else's ship, but it wouldn't be long before he'd have his own.

A name. He had to have a name. John Wellington sounded neither impressive nor threatening. It would have to go, but for what? He needed a name that everyone in the Caribbean would know.

A memory came to him. A friend of his father's had come to dinner, much to his mother's dismay. He was a sailor and had coarse manners to say the least. "Ye gonna run away ta sea, Jack me boy?" he used to ask. "Ye should." His mother would glare daggers. At least John had waited until his parents were dead before sailing away.

Jack sounded like a reasonable pirate's name though. Not the most fearsome, but catchy enough. 'Captain Jack…' he thought. 'Captain Jack what?'

_"He ain't more'n a litt'l sparrow of a thing!"_

It was perfect. Captain Jack Sparrow. His name would be feared everywhere. Jack would be known by pirates, whores, sailors, and soldiers alike.

The tattoo was painful, but jack figured it was his rite of passage. And anyway, he looked all the better for it. It put Jack Sparrow under his skin and drove John Wellington out.

The man who did it glanced warily at the boy. "Now ye're gonna feel some pain fer a few days."

"Pain ne'er bothers a pirate." Jack looked at the dark outline of a sparrow flying over the sea that adorned his right forearm and grinned. "Savvy?"


	10. Life's Funny That Way

**AUTHOR'S NOTE** This is the last vignette! I will post a timeline, since these are not in chronological order. I know it can get confusing. Thank you everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER** Don't own them. Never will. Although in a perfect world…never mind, lol.

**SelkieWriter2004** I'm glad you like the story! Jack's is one of my favorites too, along with this one (Bootstrap) and Annamaria.

**TheSiriusSparrow** Reviews DEFINITELY make me happy! It's silly, but I love the reassurance that I don't suck. Or even flames would probably motivate me to not suck, lol.

**Dreamgirl21147** Definitely best for last! Cept Jack wasn't actually last…Bootstrap is. Glad you're enjoying it!__

Moonlight filtered down through the clear seawater of the Caribbean. The ocean's blue tint was calming to a certain degree, but after nine years, it had grown old.

William Turner, most often called Bootstrap Bill, floated lazily in the peaceful night. He bobbed gently, drifting only as far as his anchor would allow him.

He wished it were daylight. Daytime was always more pleasant. Under the moonlight, Bootstrap had to look at his cursed, decaying flesh. There was no shade underwater.

It had been nine long years since his black-hearted captain Barbossa had had him killed. But what Barbossa apparently hadn't remembered was that Bootstrap, privy to the same Aztec curse as the rest of the crew, as just as immortal as they were. So, all they'd sentenced him to was a lifetime of being strapped to a cannon trapped on the ocean floor. He'd tried numerous times to escape, but the leather thongs with which he was tied to the cannon were far too swollen and water-damaged to be undone.

So for the past nine years, he'd pondered the mysteries of life at the bottom of the Caribbean Sea. He often thought of his son, who had been only six year old when he left London. Had the boy grown up to be a respectable English gentleman? Or had he been called by the sea as his father was?

Bootstrap closed his eyes. Every once and a while he found that he could fall asleep, even though he didn't need to. There was very little to do at the bottom of the ocean and sleep just helped to pass the endless time. He often wondered how he'd been down there so many years and not gone mad from boredom.

Sleep did not come. Instead, the fallen pirate gazed at the tireless sea creatures going about their lives in the moonlight. Over time, they'd all become completely comfortable with him and never bothered him. Dolphins would call to him and he'd answer back. Schools of fish simply parted and swam around him.

Sharks greatly intrigued him. There was something majestic about the way they glided silently through the water. His blood never seemed to attract them, so when one did come near him, he could study it unharmed.

No sharks were out that night. But after a few minutes, a large, gentle sea turtle swam up and looked at Bootstrap. "Hey there, mate!" he said to the creature. It just continued to stare at him. "Nice night out," Bootstrap commented, then laughed at himself. Talking to a sea turtle.

Eventually, the turtle continued on its way. Bootstrap was alone again.

He didn't mind the solitude, really. Over time, he'd learned to deal with it. But part of him always yearned for companionship. He thought back to his wife. His pretty, young wife in England. None of the crew knew that he'd married her, only that she bore his child and that he was devoted to her.

Was she still alive? Did she ever wonder what had become of him? These were the questions that bothered him most. Unlike most other pirates, Bootstrap had a family that he'd left behind. His eternal existence would be much more at peace if he knew that his wife and son were safe and happy.

So often he wondered if sending young Will his piece of the Aztec gold was a bad idea. But in the end, he knew that Barbossa and his men deserved to stay cursed forever, even if it damned him forever as well. Will could keep the key to Barbossa's salvation safely hidden away.

Barbossa stirred an intense hatred in Bootstrap. The mutiny against Captain Jack Sparrow was cruel and malicious and Bootstrap had wanted no part of it. Jack Sparrow was a good friend. Bootstrap hated himself for betraying him. He knew he deserved to be cursed as well.

The gentle drifting of ocean currents was soothing. Before he knew it, Bootstrap's eyes began to softly close. As he fell asleep, he knew that he had another monotonous lifetime ahead of him. And as with every time he fell asleep, he thought mostly of his love for his wife and son. Will must have been 19 years old by now. They really do grow up so fast.

Bootstrap Bill was then asleep. Not so far away in the caves of Isla de Muerta, the last two pieces of Aztec gold clattered against their 880 companions. One was red with the blood of Jack Sparrow, the other with the blood of young Will Turner. The ancient Aztec magic was broken.

The spirit of William "Bootstrap Bill" Turner peacefully broke the water's surface and glided into the sky. His beloved wife welcomed him with open arms.


	11. Timeline

**21 Years Prior to PotC** – "The Turning of John Wellington"

**10 Years Prior to PotC (Barbossa's mutiny and taking of the _Black Pearl_)**

· "Every New Beginning" – As Jack's abandoned

· "The Pros and Cons of an Aztec Curse" – When the Pearl reaches the treasure

**9 Years Prior to PotC** – "Fortunate Predicaments"

**8 Years Prior to PotC (Time of flashback in PotC)** – "Aye But We're Loved"

**3 Years Prior to PotC** – "Hello Gorgeous"

**4 Months Prior to PotC** – "The Morning After"

**Pirates of the Caribbean: the Curse of the Black Pearl (PotC)**

*** Will and Elizabeth are 19 years old, Jack is 36**

· "A Simple Task" – One hour before Norrington's promotion

· "Life's Funny That Way" – Just as Will breaks the curse

· "A Matter of Conscience" – During the interrupted hanging


End file.
